


Less of a mess

by MrsOkita



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsOkita/pseuds/MrsOkita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark Tuan only had one problem with all of Jackson Wang’s boyfriends: he never liked them. So he may need a punch to figure out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less of a mess

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry for this! Just a stress relief while I'm late with my other fic (I'm really sorry for that too).

It was not like Mark didn’t like Kevin. If anything, Kevin was the one who didn’t like Mark, so he was just returning the favor. The hostility was actually nothing new, because all of Jackson’s boyfriends were bothered by Mark at some point. At first he didn’t understand why, and just thought that gay men could be really paranoid, until he mentioned that out to Jackson one day and he just laughed at him and said,

“You’re an attractive man. I’m gay. We live together. Of course my boyfriends will be jealous. Imagine if you were dating a girl who lived with another guy”.

Mark tilted his head in consideration and had to give in to Jackson’s logic. It did make sense. Especially because Jackson had the lack of notion of telling absolutely anyone that he crushed on Mark when they first met at High School. When they were _fifteen_. Or Mark was fifteen, and Jackson was only fourteen years old and didn’t even know what dating meant.

“Except that I’m straight”, Mark pondered.

“Yeah”, Jackson nodded, “But they don’t know that at first, do they?”

After a while, Jackson’s boyfriends indeed seemed to relax a little at Mark’s presence. It didn’t change the fact that Jackson had a horrible taste in men, and that they generally were just really annoying, so Mark was the one who couldn’t stand them for much longer than a week. He tried really hard, though, because Jackson was an important friend to him and he got easily into one of his low moods everytime Mark remotely indicated that he preferred to pass out the company of Jackson’s dates.

By now, Mark was sort of used to it. Since they started to share an apartment at Mark’s second year of College - or, more precisely, Mark moved in into the apartment Jackson used to suffer to rent alone -, Jackson had exactly three boyfriends. The first one was so hard to endure that Jackson spent a whole drunk night sulking because he “just wanted to have my boyfriend and my best friend to get along well, is that too much for a guy to ask for?” Which, in that case, really was.

The second one was a bit more tolerable, but he thought he was funnier than he actually was, so he liked to shower Mark with bad jokes every time they were in the same room together - Jackson present or not. Mark could’ve got a concussion or something for the amount of times he gave him fake smiles and discreet eye rolls.

And then there was Kevin. Jackson met Kevin when he transferred from Canada through a sports scholarship. Kevin played soccer, which was nice to avoid any contact they must’ve had if he liked to skate instead. The problem was that Kevin was just plain rude. He went out of the apartment every time Mark got in, liked to contradict everything Mark said - especially when concerned Jackson -, and his piercing stare could burn a hole into Mark’s head anytime he looked at him.

Mark said that to Jackson, of course. Not all of that. In fact, he stopped for a second when they were eating dinner and watching “The Walking Dead” to blurt out, simply:

“Kevin doesn’t like me”.

Jackson turned to him in a fast motion and just stared at Mark for what seemed a full minute of silence. Then he got his attention back to his instant noodles and zombies,

“What are you talking about? Of course he does!”

But he didn’t, obviously. And Jackson failed to see all signs of that that Mark motioned to him with a quirk of his eyebrow every time they happened.

The good part - or not so good for Jackson, but it was kind of his fault, to begin with - was that Jackson’s college friend, Park Jinyoung, once affirmed that he thought that Kevin looked at Mark kind of funny sometimes, indeed. Then he blew everything up by grinning and saying,

“Perhaps he thinks you’re hot”.

Mark rolled his eyes, because _really_. Jinyoung, that traitor, liked Kevin. Perhaps, Mark wanted to say, was because Kevin wasn’t always looking at _him_ like he wanted him dead.

 

* * *

  

Contrary to Kevin, Jinyoung was a nice guy, which only proved that Jackson’s lack of good judgment only concerned his love life. The big problem was that Jinyoung and Jackson together were a huge amount of insanity that, after a while, Mark knew so well that he actually predicted their actions and apologized in their behalf before they did anything drastic - like testing other people’s patience.

Mark always knew when Jinyoung was knocking at their apartment’s door because he used the so-called ‘Wang retaliation’, which only consisted in saying “Will we have meat today?”. Jackson replied with a loud ‘shut up’ and Mark just opened the door in silence.

“So”, Jinyoung said one day, sited on their living room floor with his back against the couch. He was supposed to be there so he and Jackson could study for an exam they would have by the end of the week, but they ended up playing Mario Kart instead. Mark was just cursing under his breath that Jackson’s Luigi had passed his Yoshi. “Mark, my man, yesterday I met a really cute girl who’s majoring in Japanese Literature and she wants to meet me tomorrow night. She says she’s bringing a friend. Interested?”

Jinyoung also had the costume of finding him dates. He liked to think of himself as a guru of love, and ignored all of Mark’s protests that he wasn’t interested in finding a girlfriend right now. He just went along for occasional flirts and random kisses with strangers. Jackson, as always, sided with Jinyoung and insisted that Mark should be looking for the love of his life instead of one night stands. That should maybe explain why he himself got into three serious relationships in the past two and a half years - considering that only the last one with Kevin was lasting one year, and the other two didn’t pass six months. Mark didn’t see much of a difference.

“I’m not sure…”, Mark answered, “Where are you going?”

“Movies”, Jinyoung said, quickly, turning along with Peach's car on the screen, “Then the new Chinese place near the shore”.

“ _What_?”, Jackson yelled, and lost so much of his concentration that Mark’s Yoshi passed Luigi again, “What the hell, man, I thought we were going there together, remember?”

Mark remembered. Jackson went absolutely _crazy_ when he saw the restaurant’s sign in Chinese and nearly lost his head in emotion and a bit of home sickness for this new place. Jinyoung was actually the one who said that they should go there as a reward for passing all the exams of the semester. And for Jackson’s victory in the new season of inter-campus fencing tournament.

Jinyoung’s Peach crossed the end line as first place and he screamed a loud “ _Yeah_!” before having the decency of looking somewhat ashamed,

“I do know”, he said to Jackson, who was so, so pissed that Luigi rolled over Yoshi's dropped banana as Mark finished in second place, “I’m sorry. She suggested the place, I couldn’t say no. _But_ ”, and Mark knew, for his tone alone, that disaster was coming, “You could come with us. Bring Kevin. We can make it a triple date or something”.

Jackson’s face lightened up and he seemed suddenly totally okay that he got fourth place. Usually this would be a downhill of exageratted drama speech and low self-esteem.

“ _Dude_! That’s awesome!”, Jackson screamed, his bright smile all over his face. Jackson’s good humor was kind of contagious, and normally it would have Mark smiling or rolling his eyes or _both_ , like dealing with a problematic child. Except that, right now, Mark just wanted to drop cold to get out of this. Because _Kevin_. Seriously, he didn’t deserve to ruin a new restaurant by having to share it with a guy that he hated. Or that hated him, Mark was not going to give him the pleasure of his distaste.

The discomfort was probably all over Mark’s face, because in the middle of Jackson’s shout of enthusiasm, Jinyoung just looked at him and grinned. That _bastard_. Mark was just scratching out Jackson’s having good taste in friends. He sucked at meeting people. Period.

“I don’t think I’m going”, Mark said, tentatively, while thinking of a good excuse to pass this out. Saying the truth would have Jackson down and gloomy as much as saying a bad lie.

But he didn’t even have the time to say anything at all. Jackson stretched his arms to drop over Mark’s shoulder and squeezed him in a half-hug, “What are you saying? Of course you will! Dumplings, Mark, _dumplings_!”

Mark stood there in silence and decided that he was doomed. That maybe his mother was right, and there really was some divine creature up in heaven that decided their fates and Mark’s had been set to be a living hell.

 

* * *

 

The movie part was fine. Jinyoung was practically drooling over the girl of his. Her friend was also really nice. She was just too shy and quiet, and, being _Mark_ too quiet himself, they didn’t have much to talk about. In all honesty, though, Mark was just there for the courtesy, and he didn’t plan on leading the girl to a romantic interest he didn’t possess. On the other hand, watching a movie made Kevin’s presence a little less of a torture because they didn’t have to actually _talk_ to each other.

But then there was the Chinese place, and Kevin sat in the roll of chairs right in front of him. Burning holes with his eyes and everything. Mark had a few seconds of mental breakdown thinking that Jinyoung could really be right and Kevin was into him. Which would be absolutely terrifying.

Mark was more than happy, then, when Jackson ordered some beer, because he most certainly needed it.

 

* * *

 

 “You should have seen Mark when he was younger”, Jackson was stumbling over his words, a lot of beers later, almost dropping himself on the table to talk to a possibly even shier girl sited beside Mark. It was almost weird how opposite they were. Then again, it was almost weird how he and Jackson maintained a friendship for so long as well. “He was possibly my first gay crush ever”.

And he laughed, loud and obnoxious, telling her about when they first met in High School. _Predictably_ , because he did that every single time. Mark was embarrassed like he always was when Jackson got to that part of the story, especially when he was aware that Jackson was pretty much selling him to his date like middle-aged mothers in the twenties did with their daughters. Jinyoung was just laughing along, perhaps due to the amount of beer. Then Kevin snorted and said,

“You didn’t have a very good taste by then”.

The table dropped in silence. One of Mark’s eyebrow got up. Jinyoung turned his face and whistled, saying low to the girl beside him, “should we get the check?”. Jackson was just open-mouthed, like he didn’t understand quite well what was going on. Of course he didn’t. Mark told him and he didn’t believe. Kevin _hated_ him.

“I actually think it got worse with time”.

Mark saw as a slow motion picture as Jackson’s eyes went wide, Jinyoung’s mouth hanged open and Kevin’s lips twisted in distaste. And then, only then, Mark realized that _he_ was the one who just said that. Oh, well. He wasn’t actually known for not calling people out on their shit, was he?

Mark’s and Jinyoung’s date just stood there in grave silence, perhaps waiting for a fist fight to start at any given second. But then the waitress appeared with their bill and Jinyoung seemed to find his voice again to say, as he looked for his wallet,

“Calm down, darlings. You can fight over Jackson another time”.

Mark looked at him with his most deadly stare. Jinyoung just blew him a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Jackson dropped himself on the couch the moment they got into their apartment. Mark had offered to accompany his date to her house, but Jinyoung said he was going to walk both of the girls safe home, so he just let him. In all honesty, Mark’s mind was too full of alcohol and wanting to punch Kevin’s face inside out to protect anyone. Kevin, by the way, went away without saying a word to Mark - he talked with everybody else, and spent some extra time caressing Jackson’s face and giving him kisses. Mark yelled a loud “C’mon, Gaga. I’m leaving”, when he was sick of waiting.

So now Mark looked at a drunken Jackson laid down on the couch and pushed his feet to have a bit of space for himself. Jackson had his eyes closed like he was about to fall asleep, and the moment that Mark sat down he unceremoniously put his legs over Mark’s lap. Mark sighed, resigned, threw his head against the couch’s back and closed his eyes too. When he was just dozing off in dreams land, he heard Jackson’s drunk, heavy voice,

“Hey, Mark”.

And he waited for the continuation, but nothing came for what it seemed a long time. So he just opened one eye to look quickly at Jackson and hummed, “Hn?”

“Just so you know that if anyone, any day, has a problem with you, they have a problem with me too, alright? No matter who they are”.

Mark lifted his head back and stared at Jackson with both eyes fully opened. He wanted to say something back, but he just didn’t know what, exactly. He wanted to be cool and say that Jackson didn’t need to fight with his boyfriend because of him, but _really_. He didn’t like Kevin, so he was sincerely not caring if Kevin was going to be upset. And Mark was into Jackson’s life much longer than him, so he would actually be very angry to be left behind because of a random asshole. So when Jackson’s eyes flew open to stare back at him, possibly due to the lack of answer, and maybe to check if Mark was already sleeping, Mark just smiled at Jackson. And Jackson smiled back, and the amount of alcohol turned the smiles into chuckles, the chuckles into laughter, and Jackson went forward to grab Mark’s neck in a half stranglehold and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m going to bed”, Jackson declared, Mark’s neck still in his hold, “ _Shit_ , I’m drunk”.

Jackson let Mark go and got up in uncertain steps, heading in the direction of his bedroom. Mark stood on the couch for a bit longer, dumbly smiling to himself and looking at nowhere in particular.

 

* * *

 

 

Things started normal the next day. Jackson whined the whole morning because of a killer headache, and got desperate seconds later because of a test he totally forgot he was going to have. So Mark brought him an aspirin and a glass of water before Jackson could lose his head in despair and miss his day completely.

“Thank you, thank you, Mark~”, Jackson bowed, lifting his head up from the kitchen table. “If I don’t fail completely this test I’m going to buy you food and spend a whole afternoon watching ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with you”.

Mark lifted an eyebrow, “Are you showing gratitude to yourself?”

“ _Mark_ ”, Jackson pouted, “Be considerate”.

So Mark just sighed and handed Jackson his book when he was heading to the door nearly forgetting it. The room without Jackson fell into a calming silence that Mark was a big fan of, especially because he didn’t get it often. And, later, when Mark went to his own class, the last of the trimester before summer vacation, the silence weirdly continued. No texting from Jackson saying how the test went - like it would be usual -, no calling in the middle of the afternoon to ask how long it would take for Mark to get home, because he wanted to order a pizza. Simply no Jackson at all.

Thinking in retrospect, that’s possibly when things started to go downhill.

 

* * *

 

Or, who knew, maybe things started to go downhill when Mark finally got back from his class that day. He had assumed that the lack of Jackson could be due to the test; that he was awful at it and didn’t want to talk about. So Mark imagined that he would get home to a sulking Jackson, locked inside his bedroom and listening to loud music in earphones.

There was noise coming from Jackson’s bedroom, indeed, but there was no Jackson at sight. Mark left his key on the table and saw, a bit surprised, Kevin instead. Kevin opening drawers and throwing things into a big bag. Spare clothes, toothbrush, books. Mark gave a quick look inside and didn’t see signs of Jackson anywhere near.

“Hey”, Mark decided to say, as a matter of making himself noticed.

Kevin turned his head up to his voice, looked right at him and said, “Oh, it’s you”, without much enthusiasm, before getting back to collect his things from Jackson’s bedroom desk.

“What’s going on?”, Mark frowned, “Where’s Jackson?”

Kevin didn’t even stare at him to reply, coldly, “None of your business”.

Mark had to breathe in deep to prevent himself of anything stupid his mind could think of doing. Like killing Kevin. Or something worse.

“How did you get in?”, he insisted. Kevin took a big intake of breath as well, visible as his chest inflated and emptied. So he stopped for a second, took Jackson’s keychain from his pants’ pocket and shook it in the air.

“Jackson landed it to me for a while”.

Mark was thinking all kinds of possible scenarios. One of those involved Kevin murdering Jackson in cold blood and starting to remove his things from the apartment to erase evidence of their time together. It made sense, considering Jackson’s silence all day. So maybe Mark was next, because he would be a troublesome witness.

He didn’t know quite well what was going on, so he just stood there, watching Kevin finish collecting everything that belonged to him in that bedroom. Kevin closed his bag, walked to the door and handed the key to Mark.

“Here. Give it to Jackson for me, will you?”

Mark just grabbed the key without saying a word. It all happened very slowly inside of his mind; Kevin passed by him in the direction of the apartment’s exit, stopped mid-way, turned back as he had forgotten something (like Mark alive), and said,

“By the way”, before looking at Mark directly in the eye and _punching_ him in his face.

Mark was thrown back with the hit, his hand automatically going to hold the blood coming out of his nose. He was so shocked that he didn’t know how else to react beside stay still as Kevin shook his hands in pain with the impact, turned again and left the apartment for good.

“What the _fuck_?”

The surprise gone, an aching pain from his nose came processed by his brain. Mark hissed, a drop of blood hitting the floor. He ran to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water.

“ _Ouch_ ”, he moaned, touching carefully his nose inflated and red reflected on the mirror.

At least, Mark thought, he was not dead. It could be worse, and his body could be being disposed in some river or trash can. Which made him remind of Jackson. Where the fuck was Jackson? Mark hoped that he would have any decent explanation for all this mess.

With a wet towel pressed against his nose to stop the bleeding, Mark searched for his cellphone and dialed Jackson’s number. It ringed exhaustively until the call was automatically stopped with no answer. So Mark tried three more times with the same result until he decided to go for plan B: he called Jinyoung instead.

“Mark!”, came Jinyoung’s gleeful voice after ringing two times, “What a surprise to see you call. Do you need help taking Jackson out of jail?”

Mark frowned, “Why would I even-?”, then decided that there was no point in understand his or Jackson’s logic whatsoever and cut in to complete, “Wait, never mind. Do you know where Jackson is?”

“Not in jail?”

Mark sighed, “I sincerely hope not”. Besides, Jackson would call him if he only had one phone call from jail, wouldn’t he?

“He must be walking around to calm himself down”, Jinyoung replied, more serious this time, “I don’t know if you already know, but he and Kevin just broke up”.

Hearing Kevin’s name just made Mark wince. “I imagined that”, he pressed his nose again and the tingling sensation of pain made its way all up to his head, “Kevin was here when I came in. He fucking punched me”.

Somehow Mark should’ve known better than to tell Jinyoung these kind of things, but he was just too weak sometimes. The words used to make their way out of his mouth without further notice. The regret for actually sharing that bit of information with Jinyoung only came the second he heard the loud yell from the other side of the line,

“He _punched_ you?”, then Jinyoung was _laughing_ so hard that it must’ve been difficult for him to breathe, “ _Oh, my god_! That’s hilarious!”

“No, it’s not”, Mark replied, plainly. “It’s actually very painful and gratuitous”.

But Jinyoung was obviously not listening to him, because that’s just how he was. He didn’t take a moment to be outraged by the injustice Mark went through. “Does Jackson know this? Did you talk to him?”

Mark rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to. That’s why I called you”.

“I’ll send him a message”.

The excited tone of Jinyoung alarmed Mark, “Please don’t tell him that Kevin punched me”.

But Jinyoung had already finished the call. Without even saying goodbye. Mark sighed. He would probably be better without Jinyoung’s help altogether.

 

* * *

 

Mark’s phone ringed less than two seconds later. The name Jackson Wang blinking on the screen alongside a new hip hop song (called ‘Watch me’) Jackson chose to play whenever he called Mark. Mark let it ring for a while, just out of a bit of revenge for Jackson not answering him earlier, and accepted the call - mostly because that song was really annoying.

Jackson’s shout was louder than Jinyoung’s laughter, going right into Mark’s ear,

“ _Kevin punched you_?!”

Mark put the phone away for an instant to check if he could still hear things and had not gone deaf by Jackson’s outburst.

“Really, I told Jinyoung not to…”, Mark breathed in the rest of the sentence, exasperated, and decided to give in to his bad fate in life. He touched his nose bridge in a mindless gesture of impatience and it hurt like hell. “Where are you?”

“I cannot believe that bastard!”. Although not so loud as before, Jackson’s voice was still a tone higher and angrier, “I’ll be right there with you in a second”.

And, for the second time in less than half an hour for Mark’s part, Jackson finished the call without a warning. Mark seriously considered that he needed to get new friends.

 

* * *

 

The last time Mark could remember that Jackson got so fast home after talking to him on the phone was when Mark told him he bought beer when Jackson complained about a particular tiring day of fencing practice. Mark was kind of moved, if he had to be honest. Maybe he didn’t need new friends, after all, because the one he had just fled half the city because of his swollen, punched nose.

Jackson quickly dragged him to the bathroom, placed him sited on the toilet and kneeled in front of him with an ice pack and a towel.

“Is it broken?”, Jackson asked, touching Mark’s nose carefully.

“I don’t think so”, or he _hoped_ so, because he was not into a broken nose right now. Or never.

“Yeah”, he saw Jackson’s concerned and concentrated face, so close to his that Mark could count his eyelashes to pass the time if he wanted to. “It doesn’t look like it. It’s just gonna be really black and blue”.

The good (or not very much so) part of playing some kind of sport for so many years was that they could easily identify bruises. The very bad part was that they didn’t use to go to the doctors ever because of that; they just usually thought they could sort it out by themselves. One time Jackson had a swollen ankle that got like an elephant leg after two weeks - only then he decided that he needed an expertise’s opinion on the matter.

“Are you sure?”, Mark asked, brow slightly frowned, as Jackson started to wet the towel on the sink and wash the dried blood from Mark’s face.

“Yep”, Jackson replied, “Two weeks more or less to get better. If it were near October, you could be in character for Halloween parties”.

Jackson grinned with his own joke, throwing the towel away and putting the ice against the bruised nose. Mark didn’t think it was nearly as funny as Jackson and Jinyoung seemed to. Really, he was punched by a tall, blonde Canadian who dated his best friend. For apparently no reason at all! This was downright ridiculous.

So possibly his seriousness was written all over his features, because Mark saw clearly, from their proximity right now, Jackson’s expression soften and something close to sadness pass through his brown eyes.

“I’m sorry”, Jackson said, then, and Mark wanted to break _his_ nose for what he was sure it was coming, “I guess it was my fault”.

“How’s that possible? Were you that pissed with me that you asked Kevin to punch me?”

“Of course not”; and Jackson was _hesitant_. Mark became confused, this was new. He stayed in silence as a support for him to go on. Jackson shifted his hand that was holding the ice pack, sighed, and said, “Kevin wanted us to live together, me and him. He asked me to send you out and I said I wasn’t going to. So we argued. I shouldn’t have let him come here alone. But we’ve already talked about it a few times, and I never changed my position. I never thought that he would-”

“A _few_ times?”, Mark interrupted him, “How long is this going on? No wonder the guy hates my guts”.

Even if he was still wrong, Mark wanted to mention, because Mark had no part in Jackson not wanting to send him out of the apartment. That was their problem, and Mark got thrown in the middle and left out with a fist on his face. He should’ve punched Kevin back. Adding the fact that Kevin wanted to make him homeless.

“Two or three weeks, maybe”, Jackson replied. “He’s gone berserk and said he was tired of being the second choice”, Jackson dismissed with his hands, “Whatever that means. He’s just a crazy sociopath, you were right”.

Jackson put the ice against Mark’s nose again and the striking pain made him wince and automatically back out a little.

“I _was_ right”, it was a bit childish, especially when his best friend just ended a long running relationship, but he needed to win this one for all of those times when Jackson laughed it off and said he was being too hard on Kevin.

Jackson gave a full, amused laugh, “When are you not? I should ever only listen to you in my life”.

The laugh softened and left in place a warm, reassuring smile on Jackson’s lips. Mark just looked at him and the words kind of died in his throat, for no reason he could fathom, so he stared in silence. It was somewhat impressive how Jackson could manage to look really handsome kneeled on a bathroom floor and holding an ice pack.

And perhaps Mark stood there looking at Jackson for a bit longer than he imagined, because he suddenly heard,

“Hey, Mark, still with me?”

Mark shook his head a little and nodded, sort of embarrassed for spacing out thinking about Jackson’s _looks_. It was odd. He didn’t usually drift out like that. Perhaps the blood accumulating on his nose did some malfunction on his brain.

“Let’s put some plaster on this”, Jackson added, getting up to look for the bandage on the bathroom’s cupboard.

“Jackson...”, Mark was finally able to say; Jackson’s back was facing him as he searched through a lot of Band-Aids and cotton buds. Mark heard only a hum in response and felt free to go on, “I’m sorry. For you and Kevin”.

“Don’t bother”, Jackson shrugged, but Mark could sense his quieter and a bit depressed tone, “Anyone who punches my best friend doesn’t deserve to be my boyfriend”.

It somehow felt like Jackson’s misery was partially Mark’s fault, at the end of it all, and he didn’t like that feeling. Apologizing again would do nothing, so Mark let the subject drop and they exchanged no more words about Kevin for the rest of the evening.

 

* * *

 

Some of it was only a blur. He couldn’t tell where he was; part looked like his bedroom, part looked like Jackson’s bedroom - only that overused black snapback, to be honest, that Mark knocked over with his elbow when Jackson’s body pressed his against the wardrobe. That was when Mark realized it was _Jackson_ , actually. He had no shirt on, and Mark trailed his well-built arms all way up with both hands and grabbed a handful of the recently dyed blond hair. It felt even softer than it looked.

Jackson bit his lips in the middle of the kiss and his hands held onto Mark’s hips. Mark looked right into the brown eyes half-opened, pupils big and bright with desire, and that view descended right into his groin, fast and strong like a lightning bolt. The only thing he could think of was that he needed to get off very, very soon, because he was so turned on that was almost painful.

Somewhere inside of his mind he remembered about his nose. That he must protect his nose before it got worse than it was already. But then he realized that it didn’t hurt anymore, so it was probably all okay. He didn’t question the logic of that. The same way he didn’t question when Jackson kissed him again, harder and more desperate than before, one hand pressing the back of his neck, entangled firmly in his hair. His thigh rubbed inside of Mark’s legs and Mark moaned with such a big urgency that that was perhaps what made Jackson get away for a while to open the zipper of his pants.

Seconds after Jackson was on his knees in front of Mark, in a position that felt oddly familiar. Mark breathed heavily with expectation and saw Jackson’s lips open up around him, taking him into his mouth in one quick motion. Mark’s fingers clenched to Jackson’s hair and he threw his head back with the sensation. _Hell_ , it felt good.

It felt so good, actually, that he didn’t want for Jackson to stop, so he held him tighter, moving his hand along with Jackson’s head as he rhythmically sucked him. Mark was so close, and he wanted to come inside of Jackson’s mouth so badly, that he didn’t understand why the movements suddenly got slower. When Mark opened his eyes to look down at Jackson and find out what was happening, he opened his eyes for real.

Holy. _Shit_.

Mark’s eyes were open wide. It was definitely his bedroom now. Tactical and recognizable, with the sun starting to illuminate the window to indicate the rising of a new day. To his left was the same wardrobe he was supposedly thrown at and got a blowjob minutes ago. From _Jackson_ , on top of it all. Jackson Fucking Wang, his best friend since High School and roommate. Who stayed with him the whole evening before taking care of his punched nose. Mark put one hand against his mouth, then rubbed his eyes and passed through his forehead in a mix of pure disbelief and profound despair.

“ _Holy shit_ ”, he actually said it this time, so freaked out that he didn’t move for what seemed a full hour. Then he supported his weight with his elbows and looked down at the visible hard-on getting through his pajama pants like he was a horny teenager. The guilty evidence of how much his body had surely enjoyed the events his mind had planted on him during the night.

“Ok”, Mark murmured to himself, trying to calm down and be the most rational he could muster, “I just dreamed about having sex with my male best friend. No big deal, Tuan, you just...”. He stopped for a second and then added, laying back down in bed, “Are _so_ fucked”.

 

* * *

 

Mark had no problem with being gay. For as long as he remembered, actually, one of his sisters was pretty much lesbian and that made the fact as common as it should be. Years later, he was the one who supported Jackson back at High School, when he first confessed that he perhaps liked boys better than girls, but was afraid of what people would think of him. Mark even said, at the time,

“You should do what you want to do. Boys, girls, does it matter? Does it matter what people will think? Do you want to live miserably because of a bunch of assholes?”

And it was kind of hard on Jackson, because one of their friends didn’t receive the news in the most positive and homophobic-free way. Jackson, being a people-lover person he was, suffered quite a lot with the cold shoulder, murmurs and sideway stares.

So it was nice to see, now, an out and proud Jackson. With friends who loved him and supported him for who he was. With awful boyfriends who decided to punch Mark for no reason.

As said, Mark had no problem with desiring another man. It never happened before, but life and sexuality were just like that and Mark accepted that fact. It was just new, and, as everything new, a bit scaring, but okay. He could date guys too, what would be the matter?

The big, gigantic, tremendous problem was desiring Jackson Wang.

Mark wanted to be buried into a hole and never see the sunlight again the morning after his dream. Jackson made him breakfast in apologize for Kevin almost breaking his nose, all sunshine and happy smiles - and Jackson was not really a morning person, least of all a person who makes _breakfast_ , least of all a person who is all sunshine and happy smiles after a break-up - and Mark felt horrible because he couldn’t even look at him without flashes of his mouth on his dick passing through his memories.

“Is it hurting much?”, Jackson even asked, possibly because Mark was hot and red.

Mark dismissed with his hand before Jackson could get an inch closer to touch his nose.

“It’s fine”.

What _could_ he say? _Hey, nothing on the nose, but I just had a dream where you sucked me off, what do you think that means?_ What surely helped Mark’s life was their neighbor’s, Choi Youngjae, visit soon in the morning, because then he had something to distract him from his dream. It was Saturday, and the moment Youngjae entered the door and saw Mark’s face, he exclaimed,

“Dude, that’s so cool!”

“No, it’s not”, Mark answered, coldly. There was positively nothing cool about getting punched.

“It is!”, Youngjae insisted, excited, throwing himself on the couch and stealing a bread with pasta that Jackson made, talking still with his mouth a bit full, “It looks like a bad tv drama, where the male protagonist has an affair with the female villain, and the female villain punches the female protagonist”.

Mark rolled his eyes as he said, “That makes no sense at all”.

Jackson just stared at Youngjae like he got an extra head. And that was something, because he used to understand other people’s craziness pretty often. So he asked, a few seconds later, visibly curious, “Why is Mark a female?”

Youngjae shrugged, “Because tv is conservative, they wouldn’t have a gay couple”.

Mark thanked Youngjae’s stupidity to have an excuse to say he was going to the library and leave the two insane people by themselves. Mostly because he was sure that Youngjae and Jackson could use some time alone, so Youngjae would offer the support for Jackson’s break up that Mark was positively not able to provide right now.

 

* * *

 

Five weeks later and Mark’s nose looked like new. It was after two weeks that it got definitely a lot better, just like Jackson predicted. The fact that it didn’t hurt at all anymore when Mark mindless passed the towel after his shower was in itself a blessing. It was also good that it got better right before the end of summer vacations, so he wouldn’t need to explain to his classmates how the hell he got hurt like that.

For Jackson, the best part was that Mark was all good and set for Campus Party to receive the newcomers. Normally Mark would indeed feel inclined to go, eat good food, drink a little, walk a bit on skate, perhaps make out with someone. This year, though, he was not anticipating the event, and the main reason for that attended by the name of Huang Zitao.

Zitao and Jackson met exactly three weeks after Jackson and Kevin broke up. What wasn’t new was that Zitao flirted with absolutely everybody - he even hit on _Mark_ once. Word was that, despite the fact that he slept with a lot of people, Zitao was actually in love with one of his classmates, Oh Sehun, who seemed completely oblivious to his feelings. How could someone be oblivious to something that all College knew, for Mark it was a mystery. Nevertheless, Zitao started sending Jackson text messages nearly every day ever since the moment he first got Jackson’s phone number.

“He’s totally hitting on you, you know”, Mark casually mentioned one day, as Jackson’s phone vibrated for the countless time with a new message.

“I know”, was Jackson simple answer, eyes fixed on the reply he was typing.

Mark lifted an eyebrow, “Are you gonna date him now?”

Jackson stuck out his tongue and gazed back at Mark, “Not interested. He’s a lot attractive, gotta give him that, but not really my type”.

Mark was not so convinced when Jackson pressed the send button of his message back to Zitao. And less so when Zitao said ‘tell Gaga I’ll meet him at the Campus Party’ once they saw each other at the University ground by chance. _Gaga_. How dare he? Mark kind of wanted to tell him that Jackson deserved someone better. And kind of wanted to send him off.

At that day, Mark remembered Jinyoung’s words, so far in time that it seemed another life altogether: “You can fight over Jackson another time”. It didn’t make sense besides a stupid joke back then, but now it was so sky clear that scared Mark shitless. All of those times badmouthing Jackson’s dates. Did he really hate them or did he hate them just because they were Jackson’s _boyfriends_? Did Kevin realize that all along and didn’t like him because he was obviously attracted to Jackson?

The fact was that Mark was in deep shit right now because he finally _knew_ why he got punched. He hadn’t forgotten the dream he had last month and was acutely aware of Jackson’s presence. Of Jackson’s arm loose on his shoulder. Of Jackson’s bright smiles. Of Jackson’s body parading around the house with only a towel on his waist.

Mark convinced himself that he could live with it. After all, wasn’t Jackson the one who liked to shout out to the world that he was attracted to Mark back at High School? Things like that happened and passed with time, right? Mark just had to wait long enough.

 

* * *

 

At the night of the Campus Party, Mark almost slept on the couch waiting for Jackson to get out of the bathroom. Which he did, eventually, all dressed up and nicely smelling like he was going on a date. Mark lived with Jackson long enough by now to know that he had possibly close to none intention of actually hooking up with somebody. That was just how Jackson was: he felt good about himself and that automatically drew people in.

Drawing people in happened not only in the romantic field. Mark was always amazed by Jackson’s sociability skills. Thirty minutes into the party and only one drink consumed, Jackson easily had befriended the freshmen. One of those, a red headed Thai kid nicknamed Bambam (Mark didn’t really get a grip on how to pronounce his real name), was apparently in awe with Jackson’s everything. He got profoundly charmed when heard about how good Jackson was at fencing (told by no one other than Jackson himself).

“I’m the king of the college!”, Jackson yelled, as a matter of dramatic effect on his self-compliment. Mark could swear that Bambam’s eyes shined with admiration, as the other freshman, Yugyeom, just eyed him sideways with mildly distrust.

“No, he’s not”, Mark added, plainly, a bit concerned about how much Bambam was fanboying Jackson’s full of himself image. He had to preserve the youngsters.

Jackson just pouted at him and asked Jinyoung for support.

 

* * *

 

Jackson disappeared one hour later. He dragged Bambam to show him the fencing piste, but Bambam came back alone, saying that Jackson stayed behind somewhere with a friend. Mark tried to distract himself from his mind that screamed that said friend was positively Zitao, and that they were surely making out in a place hidden from other people’s eyes.

The distraction, of course, was a lot of vodka.

Sometimes, when Jinyoung was in his own world with the newcomers and his friend, Jaebum, Mark searched around discreetly for any sign of Jackson. Then he drank more when couldn’t find him yet again. Mark could feel his cheeks get a bit warm from the alcohol, and he started to have some difficulty to focus into things.

That was when Jinyoung sat by his side in a sudden motion, bumping into his arms.

“He’s behind the bar”, he said, simply as that, as if Mark had made him a question. Mark frowned,

“Who?”

“Jackson. Isn’t he the one you’re looking for?”

The condescend smile on Jinyoung’s face made Mark’s frown deepen. This time, out of pure instinct of self-defense. “Why would I be?”

Jinyoung shrugged, but it wasn’t as an answer. “I don’t get why you two are so difficult”, he said, sighing, “Go after him already, kiss and make up”.

Jinyoung’s words at the Chinese restaurant when he exchanged insults with Kevin came back in Mark’s memories. He didn’t know why Jinyoung had said that. If it was only a joke that unfortunately hit a perfectly buried piece of truth or if Jinyoung said it with actual meaning. The later would be a lot worse, obviously, because it would just prove that Mark sucked at hiding something he didn’t even know he felt.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Mark gazed at his nearly empty new glass of unknown drink, “We didn’t fight”.

“I’m not talking about fighting”, and, when Mark looked back at him, the knowing smile was back. Mark felt like a cat prey. “I’m just talking about kissing”.

Well, at least now Mark knew he indeed meant his jokes. He was too drunk to avoid the blush as he replied, “We’re not like that. We just know each other for a long time”.

“And Jackson is crazy about you ever since”.

Mark was a bit thrown back by the quick reply. He narrowed his eyes, drunkenly trying to focus on Jinyoung’s face and on any indication of what that really was, “Did he tell you something?”

Jinyoung’s smile went larger,

“Does he need to?”

 

* * *

 

Mark wasn’t sure what exactly made him effectively look after Jackson behind the bar as Jinyoung told him. Perhaps having too much to drink backfired into a crazy lack of notion of his actions. What did he expected, for a start? Finding Jackson, right, and then what? Tell him he was concerned, like a good best friend and roommate? Concerned with a grown-up, twenty-two years old, independent man? Would anyone even buy it?

But all of his fast need of finding an excuse died on his throat the moment Mark could see Jackson from a small distance. He wasn’t alone. Zitao was saying something very close to his ear and laughing at whatever was Jackson’s reply. Jackson had an amused smile on his face, together with a bit sluggish expression. He possibly also had too much to drink in the two and a half hour he had gone missing. With _Zitao_. Whose body expression was all over Jackson, and his hands ghosted over his silhouette.

Mark just stood still, he wasn’t even sure why. He deeply wanted to go there and ruin the moment, but it wasn’t much fair to Jackson. All of his jealousy aside, Zitao was a nice looking guy and Jackson could have any rebound affair he wanted. Mark didn’t own him. Mark needed to breath in, turn around and go to a shrink, honestly, to learn how to deal with his fucking feelings better than he did until now.

When he was almost doing just that, Zitao put his hands on Jackson’s hair, very similar to the way Mark did on his dream. Jackson didn’t seem very excited about it, though, because he tried really hard to remove them, and it suddenly became just a playful fight; Zitao shaking his hair messily and Jackson holding him back. Until Zitao leaned in and kissed him.

Mark didn’t wait two seconds to turn and leave.

 

* * *

 

Mark walked all way back to where Jinyoung and the freshmen were. He took his jacket from Jaebum, who was watching it for him, and announced quietly that he was leaving. Jinyoung looked at him with a suspicious look, but said nothing. Bambam bounced like a recharged battery doll and asked him to stay and skate with him - he was so drunk he slurred every word; Mark guessed he never drank alcohol before in his life.

So when he couldn’t almost hear the party’s song anymore, there were no more crowd of people around him and a cold night wind hit his body and shook part of his inebriated state away, Mark felt a bit suffocated and heard someone shouting his name.

He shouldn’t even have turned around; of course he could recognize Jackson’s voice.

“Mark”, Jackson called again after seeing him stop, running to reach him, “Where are you going?”

“Home”, Mark replied, the most emotionless he could, “I drank too much”.

“And you’ll go walking around drunk by yourself?”

Mark lifted an eyebrow, because he was a grown-up, twenty-three years old, independent man. He could very well take care of himself, mind him. “I’ll be fine”.

“Bullshit”, Jackson adjusted his bag on his shoulder, “C’mon, I’ll go with you”.

Mark didn’t move an inch. He just gave Jackson his best questioning, judgmental look.

“There’s no need to”, he said, seeing as Jackson was starting to walk ahead, “Stay and enjoy the party”. With _Zitao_ , he almost added, because he _was_ bitter, and drunk, and perhaps a little bit horny and sexually frustrated. He didn’t want the guilty part of that to tag along with him in his clueless and free-minded state.

But Jackson just shrugged, ignoring Mark’s will completely and pulling him by his jacket’s sleeve as he said,

“This party is kind of boring, anyway”.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t mention Zitao’s name not even once all the way back. Mark was sort of waiting for him to say that they kissed, because Jackson used to tell him everything, especially when concerned his love interests. That was part of their friendship, open up about things that happened in their lives. But no word came. The only subject they discussed was Bambam and Yugyeom. Jackson was enthusiastic to say that he liked Bambam a lot, since he looked like him when he was younger. Mark feared for the boy’s future.

Zitao’s name got stuck on Mark’s tongue once or twice during their conversation, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually say it until they effectively got home. Jackson was throwing his bag on the living room chair, chatting nonstop about mid-winter tournaments or Jinyoung not giving back his dvd - Mark wasn’t even paying attention anymore - , having a bit of difficulty on keeping balance to take off his shoes. Mark just finished locking the apartment’s door and asked, trying his best to not sound like a jealous husband, but not very sure if all the drink he had wasn’t getting in the way of that,

“I thought you weren’t interested in Zitao”.

Jackson stopped his blabbering instantly and looked back at Mark. He frowned.

“I’m not”.

And, honestly, that possibly pissed Mark more than the actual kiss, because now Jackson was _lying_ to him.

“I saw you two”, he said, with still no sign of explanation or recognition from Jackson’s side, so he had to be more forward, “Behind the bar. Kissing”.

Then a flash of acknowledgment went through Jackson’s expression, soon to be exchanged for another one of almost offense, like he was shocked that Mark could say something like that to him, “ _He_ kissed me. I just pushed him off”. Well, Mark wasn’t really there anymore to question that part. “He took advantage that I was distracted because of my hair”.

Mark lifted an eyebrow at that. Jackson had the decency of looking embarrassed, his cheeks coloring a faint shade of pink. “What?”, he questioned, defensive with Mark’s judgmental stare, “Do you know how much time and effort it takes me to style it like that? I can’t afford people messing up my work”.

Mark knew, actually. No wonder he almost slept waiting for Jackson earlier. The fact was that Jackson’s over protectiveness with his hair was so child-like, and so _him_ , that Mark sort of believed in him. And couldn’t fight an amused half-smile that really would be a laugh if Mark hadn’t hold it in just in time. Jackson, of course, saw it. He smiled, playfully, blush long gone, in a way he always did before purposely teasing Mark.

Jackson got closer to put both of his hands on Mark’s hair, ruffling it to all sides as he spoke, word by word, “Do you think everyone has a naturally silky, pretty hair like yours?”

Mark knew that Jackson was only joking around and didn’t mean any harm by that. He just wanted to disturb him, have Mark telling him off and laugh at his face. That would be normal, everyday behavior, and even some kind of apologize, because Mark was sure that Jackson knew well that he wasn’t very happy at being left behind at the Campus Party.

The problem was that Mark was very conscious of all the vodka he had, all the body heat Jackson was exhaling just within reach of his hands, all the nervous sensation on his belly brought by Jackson’s fingers entangled in his hair. Mark was very vivid on his dream right now, so instead of snapping at Jackson and living their routine, he just said, low and defeated,

“Please, don’t do that”.

Jackson evidently didn’t understand Mark’s urgency of self-preservation, because he just kept on ruffling Mark’s hair and saying in a singing, slurred, oblivious voice, “Why? Am I going to disturb your hairsty-”

Jackson never finished his sentence because Mark pulled him in by his shirt and kissed him. After feeling Jackson’s lips pressed against his and hear him gasp out of shock, Mark had a few seconds of realization and small panic. His mind went through, in a quick trail of nervous thoughts, the ridiculous scene he would put out to explain this. There wasn’t nearly time enough to think of an excuse before they were apart again.

Jackson’s hands were still lost inside of his hair, unmoving, hanged there like he didn’t know what to do with them. But that was okay, because Mark’s grip on Jackson’s shirt had loosened up, but he hadn’t removed it either. He looked at Jackson’s eyes, so widened staring at him. Jackson’s mouth, that Mark had just _kissed_ seconds ago, holy crap, was opened in pure disbelief, and when he moved it, Mark thought that Jackson was going to say something.

He didn’t, though. He swallowed what was probably just saliva and a wide amount of questions, then his gaze fell from Mark’s eyes to Mark’s lips. His hold on Mark’s head tightened a little bit, and Mark took all of these slow reactions, lack of yelling and still close proximity as an encouragement to send his concerns to hell, lean in and kiss him again. This time, Jackson kissed him back.

It was no chaste, timid, tentative kiss. Mark was pinning for Jackson for a fucking _month_ now, and even had to endure other people’s flirting and wet dreams. So he pulled Jackson the closest he was able to by the back of his head. And Jackson didn’t fight that, because he was indeed kissing Mark in return like he wanted to devour him whole. There was a lot of saliva, tongues and desperation, and the only moment their mouths were not locked on each other’s was when they drifted apart for a few seconds to breathe deep and start to kiss again.

Jackson’s arms descended to grab a firm hold of Mark’s waist and press himself hard against his body. Mark just let himself go; his fingers traveling away from Jackson’s head to Jackson’s arms, strong around him. Jackson be damned with those arms; they were actually better to grab in reality than in Mark’s dream, and Mark only let them go - reluctantly - to not somehow look like a total creep.

But if he did, Jackson said nothing. And when Mark bit his lips in the middle of the kiss as the same time Jackson mindless pushed his hips to meet Mark’s, Jackson actually _moaned_ into Mark’s mouth. The kiss broke off at that instant, both of their heavy breaths mingling in between their faces, and that sound descended straight to Mark’s groin in a strong pulse of desire.

“Holy _shit_ ”, Mark barely heard Jackson’s hoarse, lust driven whisper. He understood those words well. “This is _insane_ ”.

Someplace still working inside of Mark’s brain wanted to ask if Jackson considered it good or bad insane, but it was just a small fraction of rationality, easily lost to the sight of Jackson’s kissed, swollen red lips right in front of him. So Mark said nothing, and Jackson said nothing more either as he kissed Mark again. For now, Mark would settle this for terribly _good_ insane, because it described his view precisely.

If it would to be fair, or any guilt given, Mark indeed was the one who tugged at the end of Jackson’s shirt and lifted it just enough for his hand to touch his bare stomach and the small of his back; it was Jackson, though, that backed away just the inch necessary to remove the shirt completely. He tossed it carelessly and hurriedly in the middle of the living room, quick enough to be free to pull _Mark’_ s shirt off.

Somewhere among the kisses, and occasional bites Jackson gave to his neck or bare shoulders, _insane_ alone couldn’t cover it. Their bodies moved slowly backwards with every movement and every touch, and Mark was sure that in some moment Jackson actually firmly groped his ass. He just wasn’t able to tell when exactly they stopped by the couch and he was just dropped there with a very heavy and hot Jackson on top of him.

There was not really much space, and Jackson’s leg fell off the side of the couch from time to time. But it was awesome, anyway, because Mark could tangle himself freely onto Jackson and grind his hips into his like he so desperately was needing now. It was somewhat shocking and somewhat absurdly _hot_ to feel Jackson’s arousal against his own the moment Jackson lowered down his hips back to meet Mark’s halfway.

This time, to his own surprise, Mark was the one moaning, right beside Jackson’s ear. Jackson _groaned_ in reply, and kissed him once more. Mark wasn’t normally like that. He was usually more collected in bed with girls, quiet and calm. But, somehow, being with Jackson was like being in the middle of a hurricane, where he was so desperate for everything - for his life, for pleasure, for _Jackson_ \- that it felt like he wanted to take all out. He wanted to kiss, to touch, to feel him, all at the same time. And he couldn’t stop the small noises coming from the back of his throat and the heat invading his chest with every incoherent sound Jackson made in return.

The same way he couldn’t stop the loud _Shit_ escaping his mouth the second Jackson opened his pants and inadvertently grabbed Mark’s dick with his right hand.

“Like that?”, he focused on Jackson’s face the moment he heard the question, seeing a small proud smile plastered on his lips. Jackson’s eyes, though, were kind of unsure. Like he was afraid of doing anything that could break the spell and he would be left alone in the living room. As much as Mark wanted to kiss the question off, he managed to breathless reply,

“Yeah”.

And that seemed encouragement enough for Jackson to start effectively touching him.

Mark let himself just feel Jackson’s strong fingers a bit. It was surely different from a girl’s hand, and it was surely making him harder than he could remember ever being in his life before. He moaned into Jackson’s half-opened, husky breathing mouth and held into the back of his neck with his left hand; his hips unconsciously mimicking Jackson’s movements, thrusting against his palm.

After a while, Mark decided that Jackson’s mouth occasionally on his, muffing away his sounds and stealing his breath, wasn’t nearly enough body contact for his part. So he felt like being bold, reaching out his hand in the middle of the tangled mess of limbs and into Jackson’s pants. Jackson yelped in a strange mix of surprise and pleasure, and Mark had a few seconds of not being sure what to do. He never actually had sex with a man before. Wet dreams surely didn’t count.

The sensation of Jackson’s dick inside of his hand was quite different from having his own when masturbating. It was _so_ hot, and Mark could tell how much he was turned on by the pre-cum leaking into his fingers. Mark stroke Jackson’s dick the way he could, giving the awkward position, lack of space and the alcohol taking control of his brain. It was messy and hurried and full of sexual tension, but neither of them seemed to mind. Mark came hard a few minutes later, and he might’ve pressed Jackson a little too strong; Jackson gave no indication if it hurt him. He came less than a minute later, saying a loud _Fuck_ as his body trembled over Mark’s.

Mark’s drunken and less filtered mind thought it was a holy gorgeous vision. Jackson’s body fell on full weight on top of his, drained and inebriated, and a lazy realization came down into Mark’s conscience that he just had sex with Jackson. With their pants even on, like teenagers. Fucking horny and drunk teenagers. But, _hell_ , was it good and Mark wanted to do it again. Kind of in a proper place, next time, with much less clothes, trying out a few other things his imagination could think of. Kind of when they were not so full of beer and drinks and damn smashed.

At another sober situation, Mark would have probably freaked out by the thought of _next time_ , but right now he slowly let his fingertips trace all the way from Jackson’s arms to his nearly sleeping face, and kissed the top of his head. Jackson hummed, pleased, a small and content smile showing up on his lips, then let his eyes close and fell asleep right there, covering Mark’s body like a blanket. Mark followed shortly.

 

* * *

 

When Mark woke up the next morning, sunshine from the window going directly into his eyes, the first thing that passed through his mind was that he could possibly die from headache. Then he noticed that he was sleeping on the couch, without a shirt on, and with something that looked and _felt_ like dry cum on his belly.

At last, Mark looked around. His shirt was picked from the floor and put on the back of a chair, with his shoes disposed right below it. Besides that display of having someone adjusting his things, there were no signs of Jackson. Mark sat on the couch and called, tentatively,

“Jackson?”

No answer was heard. Mark frowned. He _knew_ Jackson. For fucks sake, he actually knew Jackson better than anyone around right now - besides his own mother, who was in a whole different country. Jackson didn’t simply disappear like that. The only times Jackson simply fled was when he was somehow having a hard time dealing with his feelings. Mark could recall the last one, when he and Kevin broke up. Jinyoung got his way around it by saying that Kevin punched his nose, which made Jackson recover and get back to look after him.

The problem was that, right now, Mark was pretty sure that if Jackson really got bad enough to disappear, _Mark_ was the main reason. Not him as a person, but the fact that they had drunken sex after the campus newcomers’ party. Or maybe he as a person as well, considering that Mark was the one who started it. Perhaps Jackson wasn’t keen on having to reject Mark and say that yesterday night only happened because he was too drunk to think better of it. And that he didn’t really see Mark that way.

Mark got up and walked to Jackson’s bedroom door. It was open, and his bed was empty and untouched like no one actually slept there the night before. Then, as a last resort, Mark tried the kitchen, to no avail. The only sound coming from the apartment were his own footsteps. Mark sighed. He looked for his cellphone, thrown on the living room table the night before, and saw one new message. He flicked open with a small hope of being mistaken, vanished as soon as he didn’t recognize the number. It read:

‘hey, Mark-hyung! awesome meeting u! we should go out 2 sk8 some time! BB~” Sent at exactly 2 a.m.

Well, Mark wasn’t exactly sorry that he was a bit more occupied at 2 a.m. than to answer his new freshman’s text message. In fact, he didn’t even remember giving Bambam his phone number. Perhaps that was Jinyoung’s doing, who would’ve guess. Perhaps Jinyoung knew where Jackson went, or what was going through his mind now. Mark only had three suppositions:

  1. Jackson really wasn’t interested in Mark at all and was concerned thinking that he screwed things up.
  2. Jackson _was_ interested in Mark and was concerned thinking that Mark wasn’t really interested in him and just wanted to have spontaneous gay sex with someone.
  3. Jackson was interested in Mark, was thinking that Mark was also interested in him in return and simply freaked out.



In any of those cases, Jackson undeniably was not having an easy time. Case three would be the most troublesome. Mark wouldn’t have much to say in the first one except to accept Jackson’s will. And, in the second, he would just have to tell Jackson that he was indeed interested in him. Case three, though, would go into depths Mark didn’t want to discuss. Like their friendship. Like their shared apartment. Like things that freaked _Mark_ out a bit as well.

Mark looked at his phone screen and thought of dialing Jackson’s number. But, as he was quite positive that Jackson wouldn’t even answer him - or, worse, turn his phone off -, Mark just sighed and dropped the phone back at the table. Jackson _lived_ there as well, so sooner or later he would have to appear. Mark wasn’t very sure himself that he was ready for it.

 

* * *

 

The sky was starting to darken when Mark got back home from the groceries shop and the apartment was still empty. He dropped the bag on the kitchen balcony and took his phone from his jeans’ back pocket. There were no calls, and two messages unread. Mark looked at the first one, Bambam’s number now recognized,

‘Jackson-hyung gave me your number, btw. hope u don’t mind. he said i should befriend u cause u’re amazing~’

Well, not Jinyoung, then. And Jackson wasn’t probably thinking that Mark was so amazing now. Mark sighed and searched for the next message. His eyes widened when he saw it was from Jackson himself.

‘sorry i ran off this morning. i’m already coming home, don’t put the police after me. jinyoung said you could’

Mark rolled his eyes. He couldn’t even put the police after someone missing less than 24h, but he guessed it was some of Jinyoung’s schemes to indulge Jackson to do something. Like texting him. Or coming back home instead of running to the Bahamas to hide from Mark and never see him again. Mark was sure that that thought had passed through Jackson’s mind. The most insane ways of avoiding problems always did.

It didn’t last twenty seconds after Mark read Jackson’s message to the sound of the door being opened. Mark stopped at the kitchen door, and Jackson looked up to him as soon as he sensed his presence. While Mark was also wearing his coat to prevent the cold from when he went outside, Jackson wore so much clothes that he looked like a puffed bear; or someone living in Alaska. His fingers tugged at the end of his beanie as he diverted his eyes from Mark’s and blushed like a school kid.

Mark frowned,

“Where _were_ you?”

“Jinyoung’s”, Jackson replied, timidly, the way he used to do every time he got Mark in trouble. He scratched the bridge of his nose, stealing glances at Mark just merely out of making conversation, but mostly looking at anywhere else he could manage.

“Of course”, Mark rolled his eyes, “Why would I even ask”.

“Mark…”, Jackson started, and blushed a crimson shade of red when decided to stare back at him, straight and firm, “I think I need to move out”.

Of everything that Mark was imagining he could hear, that was definitely not an option. Mark’s expression went mortified with surprise. Jackson couldn’t be serious, could he? What the hell was that? In lack of any coherent thoughts to reply, Mark just stood there, mouth hanged open. Jackson, probably after seeing Mark’s shocked expression, must’ve felt the need to explain,

“I…”, he started, avoiding eye contact again, “Remember that I was into you in High School?”

Mark couldn’t even tell how he managed a “Yeah” as an answer. It was not like he could forget; Jackson talked about it every time. What was he hinting with that, though? That they could have worked out at that time, but not now?

Jackson breathed out slowly and heavy, then spitted out,

“Maybe I was mistaken thinking that my high school crush was gone. Maybe I just swallowed it inside all this time and Kevin was right when he said that I don’t really see you as a friend and I should stop lying to myself, so I…”

“ _Kevin_ said that?”, Mark felt the urge to interrupt. Jackson just quietly nodded. Well, apparently Kevin was a lot more perceptive than they gave him credit for at the time. And he had truly good reasons to really hate Mark, after all.

“I need some time away from you”, Jackson finished his explanation, “You know, so I don’t wreck _us_. You are…”, he sighed, exasperated, “the best thing in my life, and I don’t want you disappearing on me because of the way I...”, _behaved_ , was what Mark was expecting him to say, but what he heard instead was “feel”.

There was such fondness and calm desperation in Jackson’s voice that Mark felt a knot inside of his stomach. He wanted to say that they should talk about these things, that Jackson couldn’t simply decide to move out on his own, that Mark would never disappear because of Jackson’s feelings, _c’mon_. But all of his words somehow betrayed him, and Mark just stared back at Jackson in dead silence and surprised expression.

“I asked Jinyoung…”, Jackson suddenly broke all those minutes passed without a word. He was looking at the living room table, where there was nothing that could have captured his attention, “He said it’s okay if I move in with him for a while, so I thought that maybe I could start-”

“I want to try it”, Mark cut in, without thinking too much. Jackson’s face finally got up as Mark stared at him straight in his eyes. He saw Jackson furrow his eyebrows.

“I’m confused…”

“Us”, Mark affirmed, firmly, before repeating, “I want to try it”.

Then realization drowned in like a flash into Jackson’s features. His eyes widened, he took two steps back from Mark,

“Are you _serious_?”, he raised his hands to nervously gesture while talking, and the way his breath was coming out shallow indicated that his heart was close to run a marathon, “Because this is not an experimental joke for me, and you…”, he pointed to Mark, “You are _straight_ ”.

Mark arched an eyebrow, “I’m not so sure that I’m straight, considering that I had sex with you last night”, he stopped for a moment, “I was not that drunk, Jackson. Or maybe I was… But I kissed you first, remember?”, Jackson dumbly nodded, and Mark felt like he really owned him a bit of the honesty he just received a while ago. “This is not some sudden curiosity. I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking about _you_ for a while”, Mark sighed, “Unless you don’t want to…? Or think that yesterday was an awful mistake…?”

“It was not!”, Jackson quickly replied, “It was…”, he flushed, “not”. He scratched the back of his head, “I was lameful drunk, though. The times I thought about it I was better with you”.

Mark raised one eyebrow once again, an amused small smile forming its way to his lips, “The _times_ you thought about it?”

Jackson blushed from the top of his ears to the end of his neck. It was endearing. Especially considering how he was a lot shameless the night before. “I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind. I actually dreamed I had sex with you”.

Jackson’s eyes widened like they were about to pop out from his face.

“You _what_?”, he closed and opened his mouth a few times, “When did that happen?!”

Mark stopped to consider it. “Right before Kevin punched me”.

Jackson looked even more mortified. “But that was a really long time ago”.

“Yes”, Mark nodded.

“You… since then…”, Jackson pointed to himself, “ _Me_?”

“That’s hardly a phrase, but yes. It’s not really that long, you’re interested in me since High School”, Mark smiled, playfully, and Jackson gave a quick laugh. It was good having the mood lighted up a bit. Jackson passed his hands through his face, then removed his beanie and also passed it through his hair in a smooth, soothing motion. He was visibly a lot nervous.

“Then that means...”, Jackson gazed back at Mark, “ _Us_ , hum?”

“Yes”, Mark replied once more, “If you want to”.

“Are you _kidding_ me?”, Jackson asked, and gave a dry laugh, “I’m a bit scared, I gotta say, that I’ll blow things, because I can be… _difficult_ , sometimes”, Mark smiled at that. It’s was not like he wasn’t used to; he lived with Jackson for years now, “But at the same time I don’t think I can look at you anymore and not-”, Jackson stared directly at Mark’s eyes and snapped, “Oh, _fuck it_ ”.

And, without further notice, he pushed Mark by his shirt and kissed him. Mark may have laughed into Jackson’s lips, but just until Jackson’s mouth opened and their tongues touched, and everything that was wrong with Jackson’s previous boyfriends fell into place, because Jackson was Mark’s now. How it should be, from the start, from that day in High School when they first saw each other and Jackson fell in love. And maybe Mark too, who knows, in spite of taking a damn while longer and a punch in the face to finally realize it.


End file.
